


Bump In the Night

by CrackingLamb



Series: Just Like Fire - Prompt Fills for La'vise Lavellan [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fade Date, First Kiss, Fluff, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26463400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrackingLamb/pseuds/CrackingLamb
Summary: La'vise feels so alone in Skyhold.Solas helps.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Series: Just Like Fire - Prompt Fills for La'vise Lavellan [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901281
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Bump In the Night

La'vise knew she should be sleeping. But her chamber was too big and too empty and up far too many stairs. She missed her clan, she missed the closeness of the fire and the aravels with their sails rippling in the breeze, providing a steady backdrop of sound that meant _home_. This castle was stone, and the wind whistled sharply through the cracks and rents and crumbled places. She was surrounded by humans, with their derision and coarse laughter, their myriad languages and assumptions that she knew nothing but savagery.

Her footsteps echoed in the wide open Great Hall and seemed too close in the hallways in between places. The rotunda was a terrifying towering space, but a light was burning inside it. She followed it, a tiny moth in a dangerous world of fire. She found Solas there, sitting in an ornate – to her eyes – chair, a book propped on his lap, his feet stretched out before him, crossed at the ankle.

“Inquisitor?” he looked up, startled. She wondered if he could see how small she felt, standing barefoot on the cold stone, a ragged shawl around her shoulders over the oversized shirt she used for sleeping in. She wondered if he could tell how much she felt woefully unprepared for that title. She was a hunter, a free elven adult in a nation of humans where might made right and they had no use for her wealth of knowledge that didn't suit their political purposes.

“Oh, I...I didn't mean to disturb you.”

“You did not,” he said as she turned to go. “Do you need something?”

_I need my family._

_I need closeness._

_I need my language and my food and_...

“I was just...wandering. Getting to know my way around.”

“I see.” He closed his book and laid it on the table, alongside a trio of bright, fat candles that made her envious even though she had some in her chamber. A shard whispered on the corner, a ghostly sheen of light passing across it as the flames flickered. “It is overwhelming, is it not?”

She nodded, jerky and childish. She restrained the urge to rub one foot over the other. He still seemed to sense it, and his face relaxed and creased in a small smile. He gestured for her to come in. He stood up, tall and straight and so at home here in the walls and open space. With that small smile still on his face, he offered a spot on the settee nestled against the rough plaster walls. She settled onto the soft cushions and tucked the ends of her night shirt over her feet, hiding them. Warming them. He sat at the other end, too far away to touch, and yet...

Present.

He looked around the room, gazing at the walls with a critical eye. “I thought I might cover these walls, with your permission, of course.”

His tone was deferential and she wasn't sure she wanted that with him. “Please, feel free to do whatever you'd like. You led us here. I feel like it's more yours than mine.”

The look he gave her was sharp and shrewd, but he didn't say anything. He merely nodded and looked back at the empty space.

“What will you cover it with?” she asked, small and quiet.

“Your deeds, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced at her again. There was again that small smile, creasing the corners of his eyes, tilting his lips in a smirk so easy and comfortable on his face that he nearly looked like someone else entirely. “A mural. Your acts as Inquisitor and Herald.”

“Oh. I didn't know you painted too.”

“There is much you do not know of me, Inquisitor.”

That title again. She had a name, it was being forgotten. She didn't know where she fit anymore. But his tone had changed, it was warmer, inviting. Her title in his mouth wasn't a distant thing, holding her at arm's length. It wasn't exactly an endearment, but it felt that way. “May I sleep here for a little bit?”

“Certainly, if you wish. I would not have thought you were afraid of things that bump in the night, however.”

“It isn't that...precisely. I just...” She took a deep breath and decided to say it. He might laugh, he might tease, but he might also understand, with his strange way of looking at the world. “I am unused to being alone.”

“Ahh,” he said. He stood up then and found a blanket. He draped it over her, the solicitous streak not one she thought she'd get from him. “I will go back to my reading. You are welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

She closed her eyes and before long she slept.

***

She walked into the rotunda and found him standing there, staring at the blank walls, a calculating look on his face. He turned when he heard her approach and a fire lit in his eyes that she didn't quite comprehend. “Inquisitor?”

“I'd love to hear more of your stories, Solas, if you have some time.”

“You continue to surprise me.” He crossed the space and took her arm gently. “Let us talk, but somewhere more interesting than this.”

They were in Haven again, with snow falling softly and the silence deep and welcoming. “Why here?”

“Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you.” Something in his tone was...off. But she couldn't place it.

“I suppose that's true,” she replied, following him up the stairs she'd climbed countless times, into the Chantry where she'd spent much of her time hiding from the others who looked sideways at her pointed ears and colorful face. He led her down into the basement of the church, to the cell where she'd woken.

“I watched over you while you slept, studying the Anchor.”

“How much studying was there to do?”

“Unknown magic in the hand of a mortal who had passed physically through the Fade? More than you might think. You were a mystery.” He stopped and looked at her, _searched_ her. “You still are.”

“Am I?” She felt breathless under the weight of his stare. “I don't feel particularly mysterious. That would be you.”

He chuckled, then stifled it abruptly, turning to leave the dingy cell for the open air again. They talked of the Breach, his decision to flee, her tease about where he might go. His self deprecation. Her emergence from whatever sleep she'd been in, her appearance at the right time to seal the rifts.

“Solas? Why were you angry?”

“I'm sorry?”

“When you took my hand and...helped me. You were so angry. Why?”

“The Breach threatens the whole world. How could I not be angry?” He scoffed lightly, but it was aimed at himself. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture. And right then, I felt the whole world change.”

Her heart clogged her throat. He was looking at her with such warmth and...affection. She swallowed the lump and aimed a sardonic look at him. “Felt the whole world change?”

“A figure of speech.”

“I'm aware of the metaphor. I'm more interested in _felt_.” She didn't know where this burst of confidence came from, but she didn't shy from it, advancing on him as he stood in the snow. He looked helplessly at her.

“You change...everything.”

She didn't stop to think, didn't examine why she might want to. She simply shook her head at him, bemused. Turned his jaw towards her as he looked out across the valley of Haven. “Sweet talker.”

And she kissed him.

It was simple and sweet. He turned his head to fit, his eyes were closed. She pulled away, the burst of certainty popping like a bubble. Had she gone too far? She moved away from him, not really sure if she should run or just burn up on the spot. She didn't get very far. His arms snagged her, pulled her tight to him and he devoured her. His tongue was slick against hers, his hands demanding she bend and conform to his shape. His leg was between hers, her hips angled against his. She held on for dear life, mind blank.

It was over before she knew what had happened, but then he was kissing her again. As if he couldn't stay away, as if he wanted more and more. Then he released her in a rush. “We shouldn't,” he said. “It isn't right. Not even here.”

She looked around. They were alone, the town quiet around them. Too quiet. Hadn't it burned to the ground? Wasn't it then buried under an avalanche that she herself had started? How did they even get here? _This is the Fade_ , she realized. “This isn't real.”

He smirked at her. “That's a matter of debate. Probably best discussed after you _wake up_.”

***

She opened her eyes. She was still on the settee in the rotunda and he was at his desk, his head balanced on his fist. He opened his eyes as she threw back the blanket he'd put on her. She crossed the room and slid to a stop between him and the table. She traced the sharp angle of his cheek, the line of his jaw. His look was wary, as if he knew he'd gone too far in a dream they were both present for.

“I've never done that before,” she whispered.

“Forgive me,” he whispered back. “The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered and I should not have encouraged it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You say that, but you were the one who started with tongue.”

“I did no such thing!” He seemed abashed and she was suddenly delighted.

“Oh? Does it not count if it's only Fade tongue?”

He sighed and took her hand from his face, although he didn't let it go. “Things have always been easier for me in the Fade. I am not sure this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble.”

“It could,” she agreed. “But I think it will be worth it. If reality even comes close to that...”

He chuckled and held their joined hands close to his lips. “I...I need some time to think. There are considerations I should make.”

“Take all the time you need,” she said and leaned forward to place her forehead on his, her eyes on his. “I can wait.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her fingers, still in his grasp. She felt butterflies in her stomach. It was quaint and charming and the gleam in his eyes said that he knew it. “Do you feel better?”

“Much.” She grinned at him. “Now I know the only thing to go bump in the night is you.”

She left him there, his face blank with shock while some good humored cunning lurked around the edges. She affected more sway in her walk, hoping he was watching. The castle didn't seem so huge and empty anymore, and she climbed the endless stairs to her chamber with a smile on her face.


End file.
